The Moon and the Rising Sun
by NijiNoNeko
Summary: He was the moon of the night sky, whilst she was the rising sun of the new dawn, forever doomed to be seperated. Gin/Matsumoto
1. Matsumoto Rangiku

**A new bleach fic! I think this is my first venture into proper romance (generally I stick to comedy and violence), but we'll see how this goes! Originally I was going to write a Hinamori/Gin fic, and somehow it ended up being this. XD (Probably Gin/Ran makes more sense than Gin/Hinamori anyway!) Imagine that the winter war has been delayed by several years, but the betrayal still happened. This is set that several years later, before the winter war. Hopefully, it'll make sense. Anyway, I'm getting too paranoid now, so I'll just shut up. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.**

**Oh, and also, I'd recommend reading to something soothing whilst reading this: either some classical piano (Clair D'Lune, a Chopin Nocturne etc.) or something off the Bleach soundtrack (Never Meant to Belong, Will of the Heart or something like that) ^-^ Enjoy!  
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Part One**** – Matsumoto Rangiku**

She couldn't sleep.

She lay on top of the blankets, tossing and turning. It was too hot to be underneath them. Her window was wide open, but there was no wind, not even the faintest breeze to brush its way past her as it darted into the room. The air outside was still, the night quiet, not a sound to be heard, not even the rustle of trees or of a shinigami's robes, perhaps as they took a late night stroll. No birds, no animals, no nothing, nothing that might be the cause of her deprival of sleep.

Instead, it was the moonlight, streaming through the window, illuminating her as she lay on her mattress. It cast an eerie glow on her skin, filtering through her eyelids whenever she tried to squeeze them shut. It was bright, unsettling, a beacon in the night.

But it wasn't the moon itself that kept her awake.

It was the memories that came with it that did.

Wearily, she swung herself to her feet, slipping into her shoes and crossing the bare floorboards to the door, not bothering to pull on a dressing gown over her pyjamas. Silently, she made her way through the tenth squad, her sandals padding over wooden boards, concrete paving slabs, stone paths, then finally soft grass. Around her, the walls of buildings became the trunks of trees as she left the main civilisations of Soul Society behind her, tracing her footsteps from many years ago as she entered a forest she had once known as well as the back of her hand.

Once, many years ago. She'd lost the courage after _he'd_ left her again.

She remembered nights in her younger years, night after night, trailing this memory-worn path through the trees. So many nights, so different yet so similar to this one, where she glided in the same tranquil daze to the same clearing in the same forest.

She remembered the same feelings, every time, as she stood at the same spot in the shadow of the same two trees at the edge of that clearing. It wasn't so big a clearing, a space only a few metres in diameter, surrounded on all sides by trees in an almost perfect circle. There were no overhanging branches above; the trees seemed to hit an invisible shield and not be able to reach any further, leaving the sky to be clearly seen. The moon could always be viewed here, no matter how cloudy the night.

She remembered the way she would always pause, lingering on the edge of the trees, just blissfully admiring her surroundings.

She remembered how she would then take that single step forwards, feeling the grass tickle her toes through her sometimes socked, sometimes bare feet.

And then _he'd _be there.

Always, without fail, every night as she took that step forward, he'd suddenly be there, across the clearing from her, barely two metres away. Always standing there, very tall, his robes very white against the darkness of the trees. Her heart always beat that notch faster at the mere sight of him; his hair, silver, almost blue in the moonlight, his mouth, that ever-leering smile that hid so much more than it revealed, and his eyes, forever squinted shut, filled with mystery.

She remembered how he'd stand there, bathed in the moonlight, watching her. Whatever the month, whatever the weather, he'd be there, watching, waiting.

In spring, when the grass was rich and adorned with tiny flowers and she'd smile hesitantly at him from across the clearing.

In summer, when the air was warm, the night a welcome rest from the heat of the day, and they'd lie, side by side, on the grass, staring up at the stars.

In autumn, when the leaves on the many trees were turning to their vivid colours of golds, oranges, reds and yellows and she'd dance joyfully in the gales that buffeted them across the clearing, laughing as he caught her from behind, wrapping his arms around her neck.

In light rainfall, when she'd turn her face to the sky, relaxing as the small droplets kissed her face, like she found herself wishing more and more that he would.

In the summer fireworks festivals, when they'd lean back on the grass, gazing in awe at the displays, the happiness reflected clearly in her eyes.

In heavy thunderstorms, when they'd stand in the shelter of the trees, and he'd hug her to his chest, wrapping his robes around her, protecting her from the downpour.

In snow, when they'd merely stand, hand in hand, leaning against a tree, admiring the falling crystals, dazzled by each and every individual beauty.

And then in the end of winter, when the frost crackled in the grass, the weather turned drab and damp, and they'd lose all the closeness they'd created throughout the year, back to staring expressionlessly at each other from opposite ends of the clearing.

No matter what, he'd always been there.

But now, as she took that single step forward, he wasn't. He wasn't suddenly there, standing across the clearing from her. He wasn't there, tall, his robes white against the trees, bathed in the moonlight.

He wasn't there.

The tears overflowed, first a trickle, then a stream, then a wave, pouring silently down her cheeks, the tears that, until then, had been restrained. It had been so many years, such a long time, yet she still remembered it all. Every single moment, of every single minute, of every single hour, of every single night that she'd spent here, in this clearing, with him. Every single one, engraved into her memory for all eternity.

Such happiness then, causing her such pain now.

She knelt to the ground, the grass soft and sympathetic against her knees and ankles as she let it all overwhelm her.

Only now did she realise just how much he'd meant to her, just how much he'd been. He'd been everything, her hope, her happiness, her serenity, the moon in her night sky.

But now, he'd left her again, taking with him everything, her hope, her happiness, her serenity. He'd taken her heart, carelessly shattering it. He'd left her a mess of tangled threads, someone who put on a brave, cheerful face, behind which was the mere ghost that he'd left her to become. No one knew she was broken, no one had even the slightest hint, no one had any idea of the extent to which she was destroyed. Her night had darkened, and nothing would be able to light it again.

There was no one who could piece together the splinters of her broken heart.

No one . . . because, after all these years, he wasn't coming back. The clearing had been her last hope, the very last, delicate strand of hope. But that too was snapped now. There was nothing left, nothing at all.

Because, no matter what, he'd always been there.

But now, he wasn't there.

And he never would be.

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**What do you think? Good? Bad? Too overly romancy? Please review to let me know! ^-^**

**A second part coming soon - Ichimaru Gin's side of the story.**

**Thanks for reading!  
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	2. Ichimaru Gin

**Hey guys! I'm in such a good mood! Our exams are over for the school year (which everyone I've been sharing my nerves in PMs with will be relieved to know!), I have only one piece of homework (German, which'll be easy and quick when I can be bothered to get round to it), I've finished learning Chopin's Revolutionary Etude, I watched the awesome film 'Taiyou no Uta' with AppleDoodle earlier (cos we had no school today!), I no longer have any deadlines which I have to read books by (stupidly, I signed up for two reading challenges/judging panels at the same time, meaning I had to read about fifteen books in a couple of months - not that I managed to read all of them), I now have an epic picture of Ulquiorra on my desktop background, and to top it all, Japan are through to the last sixteen of the football world cup! Wahooo! Life is so great! XD **

**So, anyways, managed to get round to finishing the second chapter of this (which has been in progress for ages), and voila! Enjoy! **

**Oh, I nearly forgot! Thank you sooooo much to everyone who reviewed the first part! That's keroneko13, PerfectMisfit, AppleDoodle (I'm listening to Skyline right now - it's gonna be stuck in my head all weekend! But it's so awesome so who cares? XD), RukaxKain, Bloodangel92, youngwriter123, SilverDragonEyeCardSpiritWolf, forenanimedegrading and karathemurphster - you guys are amazing! It's because of lovely people like you that I get the motivation to continue writing. Thank you so much! **

**And I'm glad you all seemed to like it, and not think it was too overly romancy. I was getting worried about that! This one, however, is definitely not romancy. I tried, I tried, I really tried to stay in the same style, but I couldn't resist putting a teensy little bit of humour in it. I mean, come on, it's Gin! I can't keep serious with him. The end is a bit more angsty though. Anyway, here ya go! Hope y'all enjoy! (Yeah, I fail at imitating Gin.)**

**Oh, and for disclaimer reasons, I don't own Bleach or Gin. *sighs*  
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Part Two**** – Ichimaru Gin**

It had been a long night.

He'd spent most of it standing behind Aizen, pretending to listen as the shinigami laid out his plans for the future. In reality, he'd been playing with the new portable sensory device that Szayel had created. For him, it was Christmas come early. The gadget enabled him to track anyone in Las Noches and manipulate the corridors around them from anywhere in Hueco Mundo. Watching Grimmjow become increasingly more infuriated as he got increasingly more lost was nearly as much fun as causing Tousen to crash into walls whenever a corner appeared out of nowhere. It was just a shame that the device couldn't let him hear Grimmjow swearing profusely as well.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been such great entertainment with Ulquiorra. To his dismay, nothing seemed to visibly enrage the stony Espada No. 4. Not even walking around the same corridor for half an hour straight. In the end, he'd given up.

Yammy had been a temporary laugh though. He hadn't even noticed that the corridors were changing, just continuing on a fruitless path through them in repetitive circles.

But even that had become boring. He just wasn't in the mood tonight. Something was wrong, something was different . . . he felt uneasy, unrestful, uncomfortable. It was as though someone was watching him, but whenever he glanced around with a raised eyebrow, there was never anyone there.

He wasn't sure he entirely liked this new unnerving feeling.

When Aizen finally decided to retire for the night, his mind was in turmoil. He should have been exhausted, what with only an hour or so until what would have been the start of a new day. Instead, his thoughts kept on deviating down different paths, seemingly unable to relax and shut down.

Going to bed would have been pointless.

Realising that Aizen had already left the room, he crossed to the doorway and turned down the corridor, just letting his feet lead him to a destination that he knew not. On the surface, he seemed as calm and unruffled as always. But on the inside, his brain was whirling with meaningless thoughts.

Because any thought that was about _her_ was meaningless.

And they had been straying down that particular path of memory lane far too often recently.

He ground to a halt as he stepped out of the semi-darkness of Las Noche's corridors and tunnels and into the sunlight bathing one of the bridges dotted around. A slight frown creased his forehead. Below him were the buildings that made up the fortress. Above, the artificial sky that Aizen had inserted.

He hated that sky.

Maybe it was because it _was_ so artificial. The world of Hueco Mundo outside was forever the dark of eternal nights. But within Las Noches, noon reigned down upon them, so falsely bright and warm. Pah.

Or maybe he hated it so much because it reminded him of Soul Society, its obvious influence. The memories it brought back, of his old home, and of _her_ . . . memories he would be better off forgetting.

Or perhaps he hated it because of its regularity. It was always the same, unchanging, no matter whether it should have been night or day. Outside, it was always midnight; inside, forever noon.

He missed being able to watch time pass, to see the sun rise at the break of day and sink back into the horizon as the night took over.

He missed watching the stars grow brighter, the moon waxing and waning as the days passed, the weather growing colder than warmer throughout the year.

But, most of all – dare he admit it – he missed watching the flow of time trickling past; watching it with _her_.

He could remember those nights so well, all those nights, in that clearing in that forest on the outskirts of the tenth squad. Those nights where they'd watch the moon falling gracefully into the dawn, shrinking or growing as the seasons passed. Watching the constellations of stars changing, the weather shifting, as the nights became weeks and months and years.

Or, more correctly, _she'd_ be watching that.

All he ever watched was her.

He could remember how he'd be there, hours beforehand, waiting as the final rays of sunlight filtered through the trees.

How, as the moon sailed higher in the night sky and its cool light stretched out soft tendrils towards his face, he'd step back into the shadows.

How, after hours of patience, he'd be rewarded with the faint rustle of her clothes, the quiet tread of her feet in the grass as she'd appear on the other side of the clearing.

How he'd ignore the side of him that wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them in one quick burst of shunpo and pull her into his arms, instead, only watching as she'd step forward into the moonlight.

How, only then, he would reveal himself, never failing to notice or enjoy the sparkle in her eye that brightened as she lifted her gaze to his.

How, before the moon finished vanishing, she'd flee back to her squad.

How he'd remain behind, long after she'd disappeared, waiting for the sunrise.

How he'd stand there, watching the sky brighten by the minute, dispersing the last threads of night.

How he'd wait, savouring the second that the very first touch of the new dawn brushed against his cheek, revelling in the warmth and bliss of that gentle light.

For, contrary to what others might say or think, he loved that moment. That brief moment of time, that, every day, he captured in his memory, that precise moment when the rising sun greeted the new day. A new start, a new beginning; it sent away his troubles, allowing him that rare moment of pure happiness.

But also, because the rising sun reminded him of _her_.

His life was a well of darkness, one long night that never seemed to end, filled with hidden guilt and doubts. And the one person that seemed to clear the shadows was her.

She'd be there; tall, magnificent, golden-haired, radiating a beautiful light that became the dawn of his night. She was the rising sun, she was the new start, the new beginning of everything. She was what he yearned for, more than anything else in the entire universe.

Or at least, she'd seemed that way.

Now, standing in the eternal noon of Las Noches, these memories were nothing. Nothing but meaningless trouble, annoying thoughts that clustered up in his mind.

They had all been in the past. None of it mattered anymore. He shouldn't be dwelling on these irrelevant memories now. They shouldn't get in the way of his new life.

He'd known, even then, in those memories, the inevitability of what would happen, known even then, what he would sacrifice. He shouldn't have been creating those memories in the first place. All it was doing was making things harder now.

But he hadn't stopped himself.

The same way that, now, he should have thrust those memories to the back of his mind.

But he wasn't going to.

He hadn't been able to resist those nights, watching the moon climb and fall, and the sun rise at the start of the new day.

And he wasn't going to forget either.

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**And that's a wrap! Please let me know what you think - did you like this as much as the first part? I tried to keep Gin in character, but it's so hard to do that in this genre, so do you think he's too OOC? Does it fit with the first part? I worry too much, so please let me know!**

**And also, if you enjoyed this, keep an eye on it. For now it's completed, but I may come back to it and add a couple more parts. I might do some from other character's points of view, their opinion and side of the whole Gin/Ran story. Hitsugaya, for example. Maybe . . . so look out for surprises! And let me know what you think about the whole same storyline from two different characters points of view thing. Perhaps I'll do a similar thing for different pairings. **

**Anyway, many thanks for reading! Please review, and remember to look out for more possible parts in the future! ;)  
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